


I Owe You an Apology

by BubblyReality



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6971713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyReality/pseuds/BubblyReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck Shurley is back and he's God. Everyone seems to be just fine about that, except you. </p><p>You and Chuck have a past; a rather nice past—one with shy smiles that quickly turned into passionate touches. When the Winchester brothers ask you to visit, you weren't expecting Chuck, and you definitely weren't expecting him to be God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Key:  
> [Y/N]—Your Name  
> [L/N]—Last Name

It was strange getting such a vague explanation from Sam Winchester as to why you had to come to Kansas _now_. Of course you didn’t hesitate, packing up what little you had dumped on the twin bed parallel to your own before checking out of the shabby motel before setting out on the road. You hadn’t seen, or even _heard_ from the Winchester brothers in years and were curious as to what they needed you for. You figured you were needed for just your average hunt that happened to leave the boys at a road block, forcing them to reach out for help. And you were right. More or less.

Upon arriving at the given address, you were delighted to see Dean leaning against his car. Your own steed pulled up beside him and you cast a smile his way before cutting the ignition and hopping out. You practically skipped around the front end of your car, Dean meeting you halfway. You tossed your arms around his neck and held him tight as his own arms snaked around your lower back, giving you an equally firm squeeze.

“It’s good to see you,” you said, turning to give him a peck on the cheek before pulling away.

“It’s great to see you too.” Relief filled his voice as he smiled tiredly.

You frowned. “So, what’s wrong? Why did I get such a vague call from your brother?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Everything’s kinda gone to shit recently.”

“And you need my help?” you guessed, a sympathetic smile ghosting on your lips.  

“Well.” A pause. “That’s one of the reasons we called.”

“But…?” you encouraged.

“But, that’s not the _main_ reason.” Dean smiled sheepishly.

You raised a brow in silent questioning, but Dean just shook his head and turned towards the large metal door behind him, signaling for you to follow.

He paused in front of the door and turned to you. “Now, there’s someone in here that you may or may _not_ be happy to see. I just need you to stay calm and rational no matter how you feel. Just let him explain himself before you go off the rails.”

You scoffed. “Since when have I ever _‘gone off the rails’_?”

Dean shot you a knowing glance, amusement edged into the corners of his eyes.

“Fine,” you huffed. “I promise.” And you were being sincere; however you didn’t realize how hard it would be to keep that promise.

Dean smiled and opened the door. “She’s here,” he called out.

You trailed behind Dean as he descended the stairs, scanning the room, finding it difficult to take everything in. The beautiful room was forgotten, however, when you spotted a certain mop of hair hanging over an open book. You grinned and rushed passed Dean on the steps, barely giving Sam time to stand before launching yourself at him.

A surprised grunt escaped the taller hunter’s lips, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you in greeting. “It’s good to see you too, [Y/N],” he laughed.

You pulled away, grinning like an idiot. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“I’d say it has.”

You froze. That voice was familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on who it belonged to. It was an old voice, one that you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. Although your brain didn’t remember, your heart seemed as if it did as you could hear it pounding in your ears. Uneasiness settled in your stomach as you clenched your jaw. The voice was high and sweet and a little bit squeaky; it was beautiful and you couldn’t deny that you had been in love with that voice years ago; that you were _still_ in love with to this day. Your heart clenched as your brain caught up. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and you squeezed them shut.

You took a deep breath and turned, opening your eyes slowly to reveal the one you were desperately hoping was _not_ there despite your heart praying otherwise. The dark curly hair and scruffy beard made your heart jump to your throat and your stomach do flips. But not the good, excited kind; more like the terrified, _I’m going to throw up right here right now_ kind.

You unclenched your jaw, opening your mouth to say something, but you found no words. Instead, you found your feet leading you forward, towards those blue eyes. Your brain screamed, but your heart screamed louder. You could imagine your brain huffing as it settled for what your heart wanted, but not fully. You clenched your fists at your sides, and once close enough; you raised your right one, and punched him. You punched him with all of your might; backing the force with all of the pain and anger and dread he had put you though throughout the years.

You pulled your hand back, flexing it and rubbing your now sore knuckles. You heard your name being called along with _his_ name. And footsteps getting closer. You steeled yourself for the hand on your arm, but it never came. _He_ had raised his free hand, the other clutching his probably broken nose, and waived it at the Winchesters. He stood straight, removing his now bloody hand from his even bloodier nose and turned to the boys. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice nasally, before turning to you. “I deserved that.

“You two can go,” he said, turning back to the hunters and smiling cheekily. “I think I can handle myself.”

The brothers shared a glance and nodded before leaving the room. You watched them go, and as soon as they left the room, you turned back to him, you turned back to _Chuck_.

“Please, let me explain,” Chuck said.

“Explain?” you snapped. “Explain _what,_ exactly?”

“I had no choice,” he replied simply. “I had to leave.”

“You _‘had no choice’_ ,” you mocked, scoffing and turning away slightly, arms crossed.

An unsettling silence filled the air.

You turned back, lowering your arms to your sides and looking up at him lamely. “I thought you had been kidnapped or—or _died_ or something!” You clenched your fists, fighting back the tears that begged to spill. “I—I thought… I thought _I_ had done something wrong. I thought you had left because of me.” The tears stung your eyes as the slipped free.

He was staring. _Why_ was he just _staring_? His eyes bore into your own, searching for something. It was a staring contest and you wanted to win, but you were tired; too tired to play these games. You cast your gaze to the floor, sniffling and wiping at your eyes aggressively.

Then, a hand rested on your upper arm and you jerked slightly, glancing up to meet Chuck’s gaze once again. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he smiled encouragingly. “In fact: you’ve done everything right; you’ve done everything _perfectly_.”

“Then why leave and not tell anyone?”

“Because I had to.”

Anger bubbled in your stomach. “’I _had_ to’ isn’t good enough,” you growled. “Tell me: why didn’t you have a choice? Was someone holding you at gunpoint or something? Why, Chuck. _Why?_ ” You were fed up with this shit. What game was he playing at anyway?

Chuck sighed, “I had to let things run their course. I was too involved.”

“Too _involved_?!”

Confusion flashed in his eyes before he caught onto you, his eyes widening. “Now that’s not wh—“

“You think you were _too involved_? What the _fuck_ is _that_ supposed to mean? What, so I wasn’t good enough? Being so-called ‘perfect’ isn’t good enough? For God’s sake, make up your mind!”

Chuck fell silent, looking off past your shoulder, thinking about the words you had just chucked at him. And then he came to a conclusion: “Maybe that was what I was trying to say; I _was_ too involved. You, [F/N} {L/N], are too good for me. I kept things from you for your sake, for my sake, for the world’s sake.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

Chuck focused his gaze back on you, those blue eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago burning deep into you. He snapped his fingers and a bright white light glowed from the small gash across his nose.  You looked on with amazement and horror and surprise and a bunch of other feelings that you couldn’t describe. When the glowing died down, there stood an unharmed Chuck, his nose looking as it had before you socked him in the face.

“Are you… an angel?”

“—God?”

You spoke in unison and oh, God—no; oh, _Chuck_ —you wish you hadn’t. Chuck was _God?_

You stared, awestruck and a bit hurt. You two had grown so close when you had first met; you’ve shared so much with each other. And yet he probably never even considered telling you that he was God. Sure, the whole angel thing was still relatively new and it may have taken some convincing back then, but you would’ve been fine with it, right? Maybe.

Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him. “Sam? Dean?” you called out as you maneuvered around Chuck to venture deeper into the bunker.

You found the boys it the kitchen, talking quietly with each other. When you entered the room, they turned to you. You felt a presence behind you and realized Chuck had trailed behind you, so there the two of you stood in the doorway, you still red in the face and Chuck presenting an unreadable expression.  With his breath on your neck, you shivered and told yourself you hated him and that you wanted nothing to do with him ever again—what a childish thought. You knew that you could never hate him, not after what the two of you had shared. And there was definitely no way out of interacting with him if he was mixed into the mess the boys were in.

“So,” Dean said, “did you two kiss and make up already?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I finally got to updating this, and it's only been what, seven months? I'm horrible at updating, I'm sorry, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless!

The days following his return were awkward, to say the least.  He was always bumming around the bunker, making it hard for you to avoid him.  Even though Sam had told you over and over again to talk to Chuck, you refused.  You knew it’d be good for the both of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it.  He was God, after all.  And despite you not wanting it to be the case, you were intimidated by that fact.  Inside that small, scruffy man you saw lounging around all day housed a god.  You couldn’t wrap your head around it.  You could barely believe it.

This kept you up at night, but you were usually able to distract yourself with a book or some writing or doodling, but one night in particular, you found yourself wide awake at 2 AM. You had spent the past few hours desperately trying to will yourself to sleep, but, unfortunately, it never came.  Your mind was riddled with different scenarios and different outcomes of what would happen if you were to confront Chuck.  Not only was Sam bugging you about it, but now your brain had turned against you as well. You huffed, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed and glancing at the clock on the side table only to see the bright, red numbers mocking you.  You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, standing up and pulling on your robe, covering your loose t-shirt and cotton underwear, and padding out to  the kitchen.

Surprisingly, the lights were on and the quiet clinking of glass and swishing of water was coming from the brightly-lit room.  You squinted and blinked a few times to adjust your eyes to the light, taking in the sight before you: Chuck standing in a white t-shirt and very tight, black boxer-briefs; in front of the sink; cleaning dishes.  The mess of hair atop his head was extra messy-curls standing up every which way.  Through the thin fabric of the shirt, you could see his back and shoulder muscles flex and relax as he scrubbed and rinsed and dried the dishes.  Your eyes ventured lower to the black fabric clinging to his ass.  You allowed your eyes to linger before swallowing and focusing your attention elsewhere.

A sigh from the man brought your attention back to him.  Chuck had placed the final dish on the drying rack and was now clutching the counter, his head hanging low.  He brought a damp hand up to his forehead, rubbing it then carding his hand through his hair.  You figured it was time to make your presence known, so you cleared your throat, causing Chuck to startle and turn quickly to face you. You allowed your lips to tug into a small smile as you moved farther into the kitchen.  “It’s a strange sight to see God doing the dishes,” you joked, your eyes now surveying the front of the man.  “Couldn’t you just snap your fingers and have them be magically clean?”

Chuck gave you a tired laugh.  “I guess I just needed to occupy myself,” he explained, scratching his head and looking up at you through his eyelashes.  He looked you up and down, a blush rising to his cheeks at the open front of your robe.

You nodded and pursed your lips, blushing and averting your eyes to the stainless steel tabletop as you wrapped the robe around yourself.  You took a seat on a stool and nervously ran a hand through your hair.  An awkward silence settled as Chuck made his way around the table to sit beside you.  You held your breath, staring at your hands in your lap.  “So, you couldn’t sleep either,” Chuck said, breaking the silence.

You glanced up at Chuck.  He was staring, craning his neck to look you in the eye with his own large, puppy-dog eyes.  Chuck cautiously raised a hand to brush the hair out of your face, smoothing it back behind your ear. You sat up straight, taking a deep breath in and out.  “I suppose so,” you breathed.

Another silence settled between you two as you just stared at each other.  You couldn’t help but think of what could’ve been if Chuck had been a normal human (well, as normal as he could be being a prophet of God); you could imagine yourselves happy and maybe even _married_ at this point.  It was an outlandish thing to imagine, especially now, but you couldn't help but indulge yourself with the thought.  You so desperately wanted to say something, but the words you rehearsed time and time again while laying in bed were lost.  Lucky, you didn’t have to say anything.

“I think,” Chuck started, keeping his eyes locked on yours and reaching out to lay a hand over yours, “I owe you an apology.”

He was sincere.  He was so horribly sincere and it made your heart ache.

“I’m so sorry,” he continued.  “I am so, so sorry I left you with no warning.”  His eyes were turning red and his voice shook; and you could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, tears threatening to fall.  “I should’ve told you something, _anything_ , or left a note to make it hurt less.”

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing: “I thought about you all the time; every day.”

“Me too,” you choked through teary words.

Chuck offered a weary smile and gave your hand a squeeze. “I tried to be there for you through the little things.  Did you notice white roses more and more after I had left?”

You looked at him in amazement. “That was you? You did that for me?” A tear slipped down your cheek and Chuck thumbed it away, a smile on his face.

“Of course I did that for you.”  Chuck looked at you with more love than you’ve experienced in the past few years combined as he caressed your cheek.  “I love you.”

And there they were.  The three words you longed to hear from his lips ever since you thought you’d never hear them again.  You swallowed and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and allowing more tears to escape your eyes.  “I missed you so much,” you whispered.  

Chuck ran his hand past your ear and to the back of your head, into your hair, moving the other from your hands to your face. You opened your eyes to a puffy-eyed Chuck.  “May I kiss you?” he asked, lip trembling and voice wavering.

He moved in closer, pausing just before his lips grazed yours.  He looked at you with round, loving eyes and you desperately wanted to say yes.  You wanted to kiss him, melting your lips together so one couldn’t tell yours from his. To drag your tongue against his; lightly sucking and nipping, pulling sweet moans from that pretty mouth of his. To pull him out of the kitchen and into your room where you could rid him of those teasing black boxers and just lose yourself in him.  To forget the past few years.  To go back to the way things were before he disappeared.  But you couldn’t.  Saying yes would be selfish, and although your heart was still screaming, your brain had been subdued with the short, yet intimate, interaction with Chuck.

You closed your eyes once more, pulling out of his grasp.  “I’m sorry,” you whispered.  “I can’t.”  You stood up and backed away.  “Not tonight.  Not yet.”  You swallowed and watched Chuck carefully, expecting anger or dread or regret wash away the love and hope currently painted on his face.  But it stayed.  Understanding melded with the light in his eyes as he stood.

“I understand,” he said calmly, a few stray tears trailing down his cheeks.  “No need to apologize.”

You stared at him for a moment.  He had cast his gaze to the floor and was tugging at the hem of his shirt.  God, he looked like a little kid.  You swallowed hard and quietly bid him goodnight before swiftly making your way back to your room.  Once inside, you shut the door behind you  before climbing onto your bed.   And there you sat, hugging a pillow to your chest as you cried.  You didn’t even know exactly _why_ you were crying, but you knew you had to let it happen.  You used the pillow to muffle your sobs and catch your tears, imagining a certain eternal being’s shoulder in its place.  This thought, however, caused your body to shake and your head to hurt and your tears to flow more forcibly.  You buried your face into your pillow and breathed deeply, exhaustion catching up to you as your sobs turned to sniffles and your sniffles turned to shaky breaths.  

You laid back, turning onto your side and curling around the pillow.  Your eyes felt heavy from all the crying, so you gave in and let them slip closed.  You were soon fast asleep, a small smile tugging at your lips with the feeling of careful eyes watching over you.


End file.
